


The Dark Lady

by Chericola



Category: Charlie Bone Series | Children of the Red King - Jenny Nimmo
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:49:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chericola/pseuds/Chericola
Summary: One-shots about Dorothy Bloor's life in Bloor's Academy.





	1. The Dark Lady

The day her son crushed her hand is the day Dorothy Bloor died inside. Some might say that it was foolish of her to place her hand on the door-frame the way she did, but truly she hadn't expected Manfred to slam the door on her fingers. She was his mother, after all. Why would he do such a horrifying thing to his own mother?

It was foolhardy, perhaps, to think that she could have escaped them, when so many others (others stronger than her) had tried and failed and paid the price for their failure. But she had to try. She couldn't stand it any longer, living that dreary life with a son who was a monster and a cold-hearted husband who clearly cared nothing for her. She'd seen the horrible things they had done, things that chilled her soul and made her weep in her heart. She had to go now, before the Bloors broke her like they broke their many other victims.

Her son had tried to stop her. Look at me, he had screamed. Look at me. When she wouldn't (because she knew by now the dreadful extent of his hypnotic powers and didn't want to take any chances) he threw a fit. He screamed. He cried. Still she would not be moved. And when she tried to flee, tried to put her hand in the doorway to stop Manfred from following her… he had slammed the door right on her fingers. The most agonising pain she'd ever felt in her life shot through her fingers, and she screamed and screamed. Or she thought she screamed. And then she must have fainted, because a short time later she found herself strapped into a bed, with Ezekiel Bloor grinning maliciously down at her. It was over, he said gleefully. That ghastly old man had cursed her hand, the hand she used to play her precious music, and destroyed all her hopes along with it. Without her playing-hand, how could she make a living in the outside world?

She'd only been trying to escape the Academy and move on to a better life, perhaps teaching violin to willing students in Paris. Couldn't they understand that? She hadn't wanted to stay in that gloomy building any longer. Hadn't wanted to be party to their nefarious plans that brought so much ill to other people. Now she was a prisoner in her own home, helpless and alone. No one could aid her; hardly anyone knew about her. All the Bloors wanted was the money, of course, but she would never give that up. So there she stayed, hopeless and lost and broken.

At times she wondered if this was her punishment, for not preventing Emma Tolly's abduction and Lyell's hypnotisation. She lived a half-life now, much like Lyell, helpless and trapped in the building that used to be her home. Now it was a prison, and she would do anything to escape it.


	2. Regret

Over the course of the years she was married to Harold, Dorothy witnessed the Bloors do many horrible things. Too many to count. But the thing she most regretted being party to was the abduction of Emma Tolly, and the hypnotisation of Lyell Bone. She was there that day in the cathedral square, where the transaction was meant to occur. Herself, the old man, her little son and her cold-eyed husband stood opposite Mostyn Tolly who carried the prize that they sought to acquire. Little Emma could fly, so it was said, and the Bloors were eager to acquire her for their own nefarious plans. The crabby, absent-minded man looked unhappy at giving away his daughter, but still he lifted the child, and Ezekiel reached out to grab her, his eyes shining with greed and triumph.

Years later, it still sickened her to recall what happened next. Lyell Bone had run out of the cathedral, shouting at them, trying to stop Tolly from giving away his daughter. It hadn't worked, and when Lyell struck Ezekiel, crippling him for life, Manfred turned to him with that horrible stare and the man sank to his knees with his hands clapped to his face. He then turned to the little girl, who'd been crying with fright, and silenced her with the same dark look.

It moved on very quickly from there. The little girl was thrust into Dorothy's arms, and Dorothy clutched her to her chest, numbed by what she had witnessed. She didn't need to see Harold's look of warning directed at her—she didn't want to speak or think about what had occurred ever again. She longed to erase it from her memory, but it was stuck there like glue, and she knew that she'd never be free of it, or the guilt she felt when she recalled the horrifying event.

She held onto Emma, and watched as her grandfather-in-law and husband discussed what to do about Lyell Bone. A phone call was made, and after that, Harold spoke quietly to Manfred. The boy nodded once, and turned to Lyell, saying, 'Look at me!' He did. A chill ran through Dorothy, and she almost gasped to see the man's eyes. They were blank, as if he saw and felt nothing at all. It horrified her so much that Manfred's next words flew completely from her mind; a moment later, when she finally came back to herself, it was over and the man was gone.

Later, she asked her husband what Manfred had told the man to do. Harold had replied, in a cold, satisfied voice that grated at her ears, 'He sent Bone back to his wife, for now. When it's time, he'll leave her to visit his mother and crash his car into a quarry. Then we'll take him back to the Academy. He won't be missed; the rest of the world will think he is dead.'

Bile rose up Dorothy's throat. This was what they did to people…

'He has a family,' she said quietly. 'He has a wife and a child.'

Harold glared at her. 'That doesn't matter. It's too late now, in any case. It was too late from the moment Manfred looked at him. We had to do something about Bone, and this is the easiest and most efficient way.'

Dorothy shivered, but said no more.

Soon enough, it was done. Emma Tolly was renamed Emilia; Harold arranged for her to live with a childless couple when she was older, but for now she would stay in the Academy. The Bloors entrusted the child into Dorothy's care, and Dorothy gladly took up the duty. Goodness knew, the girl needed to be mothered, and she would get no kindness from anyone else. And she had to admit that she wanted a second chance to be a mother, even if it was just for a short time. So she cuddled and cooed and cared for Emilia, and tried to ignore the baby's unresponsiveness and the glazed, blank look in her blue eyes.

As for Lyell Bone, as far as the world knew, he died when he crashed his car into a quarry on one terribly foggy night. He was taken to the Academy, and locked in the Music Tower, where the Bloors planned for him to teach piano. They called him Mr Pilgrim. Dorothy meekly agreed, at least publicly. In the recesses of her mind, however, she still called him by his true name. Lyell. It didn't seem right, to let him be forgotten as Harold and Ezekiel wanted, especially since he hadn't deserved the fate he'd gotten.

She deeply regretted what had happened on that fateful day. As surprising as it would seem to an outsider, she had admired Lyell Bone greatly. She'd admired his courage, especially when it came to defying her husband and his family. It was courage that she lacked but always wished she had. Now there was little of that left in the man—in fact, there was little of anything. Lyell Bone was helpless, lost, a shadow of his former self. Perhaps he was gone forever, as Ezekiel and Harold maintained. Dorothy did not like to think so.

Every day she would stand with little Emilia outside the door to the Music Tower, where they could both listen to the music that floated down from above. It was such beautiful, mournful music, and it brought tears into her eyes to hear it. And little Emilia would stir within Dorothy's arms, and blink up at her, and Dorothy could see that she could hear the music, despite the hypnosis. And so she brought the child to listen whenever she could.

Weeks later, she heard that the Yewbeams had a funeral for him. His wife, Amy, was said to be inconsolable, and although Ezekiel chortled at it, all Dorothy felt was a great sadness. It seemed terribly unfair, that a family should be torn apart because of the Bloors and their machinations. But there was nothing she could do about it, at least for now, and so she tried to ignore it all. Block it all out of her mind. Maybe it was cowardly of her, but what else could she do? She wasn't strong enough to stand up to the Bloors, especially after seeing what horrors her own son was capable of. She couldn't risk becoming like the countless victims of her husband's family.

But, always, there was a part of her, deep down, that recalled that terrible day with the deepest regret.


End file.
